


Real Person

by htebazytook



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: F/M, First Time, Het, Humor, Los Angeles, M/M, Paparazzi, Romance, Slash, Smut, beach, fic discovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-24
Updated: 2010-04-24
Packaged: 2017-11-06 16:10:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/420797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Obligatory they!discover!slash! fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Real Person

**Title:** Real Person  
 **Author:** [](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/profile)[**htebazytook**](http://htebazytook.livejournal.com/)  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Disclaimer:** <\--  
 **Pairings:** Zach/Chris, Chris/Olivia  
 **Warnings:** het!  
 **Author's Notes:** Obligatory they!discover!slash! fic.

 

 

"Oh, come on, Chris," Olivia says, laughing. "You're kidding, right?"

"Dude, I only go online to check my e-mail. I barely even watch TV, come on," Chris says. "This is online right?"

Olivia rolls her eyes. It annoys him, him not being geeky enough for her, and when has _that_ ever been a problem? "Susie doesn't ever google you and fill you in on, you know, how the public receives you?"

"I read the paper!"

"I meant the _actual_ public, Chris," she laughs. "But seriously, you've never heard of slash?"

Chris puts the Wii controller chilling uselessly in his hand down on the coffee table so he can pinch the bridge of his nose and be properly exasperated.

"Hey, come on, I was winning!" Olivia nudges him, playful, but she's too energetic for him right now. "Okay, grumpy," she says, softening. "Time to change the subject, huh?"

"Why can't we just spend a _quiet_ evening at home, ever? _Quiet_."

"Um, 'cause that would be boring. . ."

"Yeah, well, I'm fucking boring, then. Sorry."

"Come on, Chris. Carpe diem, right? Dead Poets Society?"

Chris laughs. "Horace?" he mutters.

"Oh, fuck off. Come on, let's play." She's taken it down a notch, at least, but she's also wheedling. Chris doesn't like how women need to manipulate — Olivia had been different. At first.

Chris sighs and lumbers into the kitchen, fucking tired even though it's only nine.

Olivia comes and finds him after she finishes the level. He's sitting at the island counter nursing a cup of green tea and laughs and it makes Chris feel good to hear its warm, carefree familiarity. That's the problem, though — she's too easy-going and he's too _un_ easy. Olivia slides onto the stool next to him, energy cooled by the dim blue kitchen lighting. "Thought you'd be drinking a beer," she says, nodding at his folded hands.

Chris laughs. "Do you even _know_ me?"

"Shut up."

The silence is comfortable enough. See, this is all Chris wants. I mean, it's not like he's not sex crazed or self-absorbed or demanding. You'd think Olivia would be happy with that. Chris keeps himself from sighing, licks his lips instead. Sometimes dating Olivia feels like an exercise in tolerating his growing apathy toward her until a certain time of night when she flips off the TV because Leno's coming on and they fuck.

"So," Olivia says after a relaxing interval. "You've _really_ never heard of _slash?_ I mean, _really?_ "

"Oh my God, what, are you a closet slash. . . like, person?"

"A slasher?" she asks slowly, like he's hopelessly out of the loop, and just like that Chris is annoyed with her again.

"Why should I give a shit about this again?"

"It's a big deal! Seriously, it all started with Kirk and Spock like, a hundred years ago! And now you and Zach are bringing in fresh blood, as well as — hey, don't look at me like that, man. I only know about this 'cause they did a segment on the show. I just thought you would have been at least peripherally aware. . ."

Chris sighs, because Olivia isn't stupid, but she has a tendency to recycle any multisyllabic words ('peripherally') a few hours after he uses them.

"I don't really care, Olivia," Chris says. "So people write stories about their favorite TV shows, so what?"

"No, I mean, that's just fanfiction. This is slash."

". . ."

"It's basically porn. Well, it _is_ porn—"

"It's—wait, _what_."

Olivia laughs.

"Okay, so, you failed to mention that. Seriously, what the _fuck_ , Olivia?"

"Hey, don't look at me, man—I don't write it!"

Chris starts to say something, but then he starts _thinking_ about it. He doesn't _want_ to think about it, but now the images are there and they won't go away and he can feel heat creeping up his neck.

Olivia grins. "You're gonna go look for it online now, aren't you?"

Chris's eyes bulge. "Um, _no_ , Olivia. What the fuck? Just. _Why_ would people write about that stuff? God . . ."

Olivia favors him with an appraising look, makes him blush even more and Chris feels very explicitly like it's 7th grade and he's the dorky kid who got paired up with the popular girl with the most cooties of all. Which would seem to contradict the whole not geeky enough thing, but then again Olivia confuses the fuck out of him.

"I mean, you know," Olivia says, gesturing. "Look at you. You and Zach are both easy on the eyes, and you complement each other well. And then there's . . . well." She's sort of snickering to herself, now.

"What? Hey, Olivia, hello? _What?_ "

"I dunno. You have this _way_ you look at Zach. Oh, come _on_ , Chris—like you don't have a crush on him _any_ way . . ."

"I don't!" Chris flails. "I really, really don't. If anything, Zach has a thing for _me_."

Olivia laughs. "Sure he does, baby. Wow, you really are carrying a torch, huh?"

Chris just sputters.

*

"Oh, come on, Zach," Chris says. "You're kidding, right?"

Zach shrugs. "Whatever."

Chris fails to speak, doomed to sputtering for life, apparently, and settles for gawping at him in lieu of actual words.

"I mean," Zach meanders, "for centuries have young ladies of a certain, hormone drenched age fawned over their favorite celebrities and transformed them into sex symbols . . ."

Chris snorts. "You're a sex symbol, huh?"

"Um, _j_ -eah."

"Shut up. How do you know about this stuff anyway? Is it a Heroes thing, or . . . ?"

" _Yeah_. . ." Zach trails off, smirks to himself, "but, huh, I actually first heard about it from Greg."

"Um?"

"You know. He's like best friends with J.J., and he knows Dom Monaghan through him, and I guess Dom had some interesting cautionary tales on the subject. . ."

"From Lost?"

Zach sighs. "From Lord of the Rings. Jeez, Chris."

"Hey, I don't keep up on this crap!"

"And by crap you mean, you know, what you do to make a living."

" _Any_ way, if it was a Lord of the Rings thing why didn't Karl ever mention it? He's enough of a dork to know way too much about that . . . stuff." Chris pauses. "Wait, so does that mean _J.J._ was aware of this weird-ass subculture . . . ?"

Zach shakes his head. "No, no. Greg said Dom was complaining about real person slash. Like, him and Elijah Wood. And I'm just gonna assume you know who he is even if you don't, for both our sakes. So, what, did Olivia say there was RPS about us?"

"Who in the what now?"

"RPS—real person slash. Come on, Chris. Keep up." Zach snaps at him and Chris rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, I mean, I think that's what she meant? I didn't really wanna press—what?"

"Hm." Zach studies Chris's surely ridiculously contorted face, considers him and taps a finger against his lips. "Yeah, I can see it. You do, like, _gaze_ at me at events sometimes."

" _What?_ " Seriously, was Zach in cahoots with Olivia, now? Was this all some elaborate hoax? He wouldn't put it past either of them . . . "Let me get this straight, Zachary—you're saying I 'gaze' at you in interviews and shit?"

"Eh, it's not as pronounced in interviews," Zach says dismissively. "And I believe the correct term is 'eyefucking.'"

"Yeah? Well I believe the correct term for this whole thing is 'fucking creepy.'"

Zach shakes his head sadly. "Such a philistine." He pushes past Chris to make his way into the kitchen. "I dunno. It's a little weird, but the things people are secretly turned on by usually are pretty weird." He pulls two mugs out of the cupboard. "Want some?"

Chris nods, leans against the counter while Zach hits some buttons on the microwave. "I mean, at least there's an inkling of creativity involved," he admits. "I would think."

"There ya go." Zach leans against the opposite counter while the water heats, folds his arms and peers more closely at Chris. "This is really freaking you out, huh?"

Chris shifts his weight, feeling scrutinized. "So you never answered my question— _is_ there Heroes slash?"

Zach's teeth flash in a quickly smothered smile. He looks off to the side. "Uh, yeah. That's what I hear. There's Sylar and Mohinder—you know, Sendhil."

Chris grins. "Okay, _that_ I can see."

"Mm. You think?" Zach looks a little smug. The microwave beeps and Zach has to sort of press against Chris's side to fix everything up but Chris is too lazy to move. Zach hands him a mug. "Cheers."

Chris inhales the tea. "Mm. I love that you have, like, actual leaves. Olivia . . . well, nevermind."

"Thinks they're gross?" Zach asks, sips and keeps his eyes trained on Chris in that slow lagging way of his.

"Yeah, she makes a face."

Zach laughs.

*

" _Fuck_ that's good, Chris— _ah!_ "

Olivia's hot. Really. She's perfect. Looks perfect, feels perfect, etc, etc.. And usually Chris feels the most connected to her when they're mid-coitus, but tonight he's preoccupied.

"Yeah there . . . _fuck_ right there mmm, _God_ . . ."

"Hey, Olivia?"

" _Chris_ . . ."

"Yeah, it's me. Olivia?"

"Woah, okay, what the fuck? Why are you stopping? Urrggghh, are you fucking kidding me?"

"Um. I. Do you . . ." He takes one look at her furious, sweat-shiny face and rethinks it. "Never mind."

Olivia snaps her hips and Chris gasps. "No, just tell me. What is it?"

"Just." Chris sighs. "Do you think Zach is interested in me?"

"Don't _whine_ , Chris," Olivia says vaguely, blinks and attempts to slow her breathing. "Okay, get off of me."

Chris does, feels oppressively sheepish. Which isn't the best way to feel when you're extremely naked with a really hot girl . . . yeah, Chris is pretty sure he's actually 14 years old.

"I thought we'd been over this. You're the one who _seems_ like you're into Zach." She shrugs, flips her hair out from under her so it splays over the pillows and off the back of her neck.

"Zach's not my type," Chris protests.

"Oh yeah? What's your type?"

". . . Tall, dark, and witty?"

"Ha!"

"Come on, it doesn't even matter—I'm not attracted to Zach. I mean, seriously, have you ever seen me flirt with him?"

"Um, you flirt with anything that moves, sweetie." Olivia pats his cheek.

And Chris feels that jolt of affection, the one specific to Olivia, but instead of lightening his mood it only makes him regret that they have so few moments in sync anymore.

"Okay, are we done talking about our thoughts and feelings, now?"

Chris turns his head to look at her. "Why doesn't this bug you more?"

Olivia shrugs, pushes herself upright. "It's all good," she says. "Now, do you want me to get you off or not?"

Chris doesn't know why he's trying to prove to her that any and all potential flirtation is on Zach's end, but it feels really important that he does so. And then she straddles him and Chris throws his head back on another gasp and he stops thinking.

*

"Fucking finally," Chris says by way of greeting, plops into the chair across from Zach and sort of throws the paper at him. Zach shields his espresso and tries not to laugh so Chris kicks him under the table. "Hey, this is a big deal, man."

"I know, _man_." Zach seems torn between laughing and staring at him, sips slowly and looks laggingly at Chris instead.

"What?"

"Nothing," Zach says, tone too high. Chris peers at him. "Hey— _nothing_."

Chris is still suspicious. "Fine." He takes his sunglasses off and attempts to fold them fluidly and hook them on his shirt collar but something slips and he scrambles and Zach laughs at him again.

"Want a pop?" Zach asks after he's settled, cool and aloof—way cooler than Chris, even while rocking that shirt and _those_ shoes.

"Um, absolutely not, Pittsburgh."

"Shut up. Like half the country says it the _right_ way."

"Yep, and we say soda," Chris says. "But yeah, I'm good. And as you can see I'm too jittery already."

"Nervous for our little play date, eh?"

"Um, not really." Zach's watchfulness today is making him feel a little self-conscious, that's all. He points at the paper again. "Dude—we win!"

"You're so cute when you're partisan," Zach grins. "So what do you think is next on the communist liberal agenda of fascist gay marriage? World hunger? World peace? World domination . . . ?"

"Heh."

"Maybe, _I_ don't know, _stop_ ignoring Iraq . . . " Zach pronounces 'Iraq' the right way, which Chris usually takes for granted, but then sometimes it's like music to his ears.

"Olivia's not only ignoring it—she thought we'd already moved all the troops out."

Zach raises an eyebrow. "Wait, seriously?"

"I think she got it mixed up with Guantanamo."

"But they didn't even actually close Guantanamo yet."

"I know." Chris shifts around, searching for another topic.

"What does she think of the healthcare bill?"

Chris sighs. "She doesn't. She's not the most . . . informed. Yeah. Can we talk about something other than how lame my girlfriend is?"

"Hey, I didn't mean . . ."

"Yeah, I know." Chris really wishes Zach would stop being so concerned about him and Olivia—it only makes Chris think.

"Okay, so, what do you wanna talk about? Not slash again, I hope."

Chris laughs. "Why, do you have some additional insight on the subject?"

Zach's too pale for his own good, and Chris watches gleefully as color splotches across his ears and face, loves it when he can shake Zach's cool. "Uh—"

"What, did you go and do some, ahem, 'research' or something?"

The incriminating red darkens and Chris points and laughs 'cause he doesn't care about acting juvenile around Zach.

Zach goes for scholarly: "There's some weird trends, though . . ."

"Weird trends in porn? _Really?_ "

Zach ignores him. "I'm usually portrayed as, like, an aggressive top. And you are the girl, Chris. That's right—the _girl_."

"Yeah right . . ."

"It's your pretty face, one supposes . . ."

Chris rolls his eyes. "Whatever. They probably only write you all _aggressive_ because of Heroes. 'Cause, you know, in reality you're as harmless as a lamb in a Lisa Frank landscape."

"Hm." Zach seems preoccupied, zones out and watches Chris's hands gesturing.

Chris feels small, licks his lips and leans away subtly. "So do you . . . I dunno, do you just not top, or . . . ?"

"No, it's not that." Still zoned out. "It's not a conscious decision. More of an in that moment kind of thing . . ."

Chris's gotta wet his lips again, fails to fight the urge. "So, am I, like, out of character, too? Aside from the gender issues?"

Zach folds his arms instead of laughing, scratches at stubble and considers. "Well, I really wouldn't know, would I?"

Chris does wonder what Zach _assumes_ Chris is like in bed, though. What kind of vibe he gives off. But he'd never say—"So what do you imagine I'm like in . . . during . . . yeah. You know?"

Zach's eyebrows climb and he shoots Chris a challenging glance that's tempered by his relentless blush. "What makes you think I _imagine_ it?"

"I—that's not what I. Olivia thinks you have a crush on me. Had. Whatever . . ."

Zach waves it off. "No she doesn't. If anything, _you_ have a crush on me. Had. Whatever." He grins, mischievous.

"Just because I'm bi doesn't mean I flirt with anything that moves!"

Zach makes a face. "In your case it does."

"I'm just trying to be friendly. I'm a friendly guy! Oh, goddammit . . ."

Zach looks Chris up and down in a manner that gets Chris to match his blush. "Nah, I'm not buying it," Zach says. "Hey, do you wanna get sushi? I didn't have lunch."

Chris wants to say: _Olivia lived in Japan for years and we've lived together for months and she can never remember whether I like or hate Japanese food._ Instead he says: "Yeah, I'm starving, too."

*

Chris tries his best not to be caught off guard, but it happens. He takes a deep breath before pushing through the restaurant door and into the rabid crowd. Feels a little apologetic about threatening their expensive cameras, but then again not really.

" **Hey Chris! Where's your girlfriend tonight??** "  
" **Do you guys break up??** "  
" **Again??** "  
" **Come on Chris, don't get all bent out of shape because she dumped you —I don't think Lindsay Lohan would mind taking you back!** "

"Wasn't ever with her." It's worth breaking his vow of paparazzi silence to clarify that.

" **Why did Olivia dump you, Chris??** "  
" **What happened??** "  
" **Hey, Chase, Over here!** "

"Okay, _seriously?_ " Chris pushes his sunglasses farther up his nose, but it does nothing to block out the mind numbing flashes of light.

" **So what can you tell us about the next Star Trek movie??** "  
" **Is it true that Zachary Quinto wants to move on with his career?? Is he out of the franchise for good??** "  
" **Is it true he's impossible to work with??** "  
" **Are you guys still BFF's??** "

Chris laughs. "Yeah, sure. We're BFF's."

" **Bromance is in the air huh??** "

Chris shrugs. His life's felt especially surreal lately, and it's put him in the mood to fuck with them: "Could be . . ."

" **Sure it isn't _romance??_** "

"Ooh, where'd you hear that?" Chris asks, indulgent.

" **It doesn't need to be said — it's right there in your eyes!** " someone calls from the back. The gaggle laughs.

"Wow . . ."

" **So did Zach dump you, too, Chris??** "  
" **Is it unrequited love??** "  
" **Come on, Chase!** "

"Oh my God, _again?_ "

" **When did you know it was love??** "  
" **Is Zach straight?? Is that why he doesn't want you back??** "  
" **Was it love at first sight??** "

" _Tell me more, tell me more_ ," Chris sings at them. They laugh.

" **How are you coping with your unrequited feelings toward your costar, Chris??** "

"Ugh, why does everyone always assume _I_ like _him?_ "

" **It's pretty obvious!** "  
" **It's called eyefucking, man!** "

Chris sighs, shakes his head. "Don't you guys have anything better to do? Maybe you could, I dunno, 'interview' Sandra Bullock's new boyfriend?"

" **What??** "  
" **When??** "  
" ** _Who??_** "  
" **Don't even joke about that, man!** "  
" **You just gave me a fucking heart attack! Not cool, Chase!** "

Chris rolls his eyes. "My apologies."

*

Zach's almost done packing the car for their weekend getaway. It's getting to the point of being obnoxiously hot outside, and that's the signal for sand and salt water and late nights on the porch of a crappy ocean front rental. But they can afford this kind of superfluous fun, now, so why the fuck not?

Zach treats beach retreats as a magical mystical time of magic and mystery. Undertakes sand castles like it's the construction of St. Peter's and has a tendency to jump up and down as soon as they can hear the ocean. Chris is pretty sure that this is the only reason he makes sure to tag along with him.

Chris drags a huge, garish umbrella from the garage and attempts to fit it in the trunk with the rest of their shit until Zach waves him away and takes it from him and does it better.

"I _am_ capable of doing things for myself, Zachary."

Zach's emphatic: "Yeah. _Right_."

"I do, you know, live by myself. I can function in the world." Chris isn't really mad, just amused.

Zach doesn't believe him. "So, did Olivia start filming again?"

"Yeah." Chris traces through some dust on the sun-hot metal of the car. "She's gonna go see Jimmy Fallon first, though. She's like, in love with him."

Zach smiles. "To be fair, he is kind of adorable. Like an excitable little fanboy."

"You make it sound like he writes fanfiction."

Zach raises an eyebrow. "You're really kind of worryingly preoccupied with this, you know. Also, just because some random person wets their pants over Star Trek doesn't necessarily mean they plot romantic entanglements between its characters and put them on the internet for their depraved colleagues to read and evaluate. I mean, are you implying that Tracy Morgan writes Kirk/McCoy or something? 'Cause, I mean, I'm not gonna lie—I'd totally read that . . ."

" _I'm_ preoccupied?"

"Shut up. I was just doing some research about it, that's all. It's good to know what people are thinking, right?"

"Um, sure, Big Brother," Chris says. Zach _psh_ 's, gentle hand to Chris's chest to nudge him out of the way before he closes the trunk of the car. Chris's breath doesn't catch in his throat or anything. "So, so do you mean, like, actual Star Trek stuff? Is there a lot of Kirk and Spock porn out there, or, like . . . ?"

Zach has to finish fiddling with his phone, stops all movement dramatically and pseudo-glares. "Un-der-statement."

"Okaaay, Mr. Geeky Porn Guru. Jeez . . ."

"It's not _porn_ , Chris—it's erotic fiction!"

". . ."

"Don't give me that look, man!"

"Are you even hearing yourself, right now?"

Zach laughs. "Dude, shut up." Pushes him off in the direction of the passenger side door. "Come on, let's go."

They're a couple of miles out when Zach decides he's sick of the radio station they're listening to and shuffles around for another one.

"So," Zach says, failing at nonchalance, "have _you_ checked out any of the stuff about us online?"

Chris knows what he's talking about, probably, but he'd like to avoid— "You mean Kirk and Spock?" he asks.

"No, I mean us us."

Dammit. "Uh, _no_ , Zach. Because it's creepy. And reportedly badly characterized." Hopefully Zach won't tell him how wrong he is about them. About fictional them.

Zach looks genuinely surprised. "Really? Huh." Finds a station he likes and grumbles at Chris when he complains that the A/C's up too high. They talk about something else.

Later that night they sit on the porch and Chris listens to Zach waxing nostalgic over childhood summers. They've consumed half a bottle of too expensive vino between them, and it's got Chris thinking about the smell of the heavy salty air and the weird combination of cologne and hair crap and leather that makes Zach smell like flowers. Not overpowering or girly, just the way Zach smells, unplanned and belied by stray strands of pet hair on his sleeve.

Zach's scrunched up in his flimsy deck chair, crosslegged and clutching at his mostly empty wine glass, gawky and childlike. It takes Chris a minute to realize that he's staring at Chris staring at him. They both laugh.

"Hey," Zach says, low. Clears his throat and tries again: "Hey, so, how are you and Olivia doing, anyway?"

Chris frowns, laughs. "We're fine. I mean, she's my type and—"

Zach makes a show of considering it, and it gets under Chris's skin a little.

"She's my _type_ ," Chris asserts. "And she's hot and witty and intelligent. We're fine, I mean, come on."

Zach nods, finishes off the last of his wine and puts the glass down on rickety deck panels, unfolds and stands and leans against the railing across from Chris before answering, like he really needed that much time to formulate an answer. But all he does is look at Chris laggingly.

" _What?_ "

"Nothing," Zach says, focuses on a spot somewhere to the left of Chris's face. "It's just that I sometimes get the feeling you haven't broken up with her yet _because_ she's your type."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Chris tries to inject anger into that but he's mostly just curious, feels like he's been waiting with bated breath for days.

And now Zach looks small, laughs a self-deprecating laugh and rubs at his eyes. "I've been reading too much . . ."

Chris feels anxiousness bubble up in his chest, and that with the wine and the sweet seaside ambiance makes him forget that this is real life: "Of course I _like_ you, Zach. Of course I've thought about you and wondered if it would work between us, but we're just friends and you never seemed remotely interested until this whole slash creepy shit fucking— _stuff_ came up and now I'm thinking about it too much and Olivia . . ." Chris can't look at him. Can't. "Ha. Wow, okay. I didn't mean—"

Zach's finger's cold with condensation from his drink when it tilts Chris's chin up. Chris itches to clean off his glasses where they're smudged and blocking his view of Zach's expression. Gotta see him better. Zach talks, close and detailed: "Yeah, so. I never even considered this before I typed our names into Google, and now I'm confusing what I feel with what random strangers are expecting me to feel but dammit, I _like_ it and I like you. Of course."

Chris needs to look away or put his drink down or run far, _far_ —wets his lips instead because his mouth's gone dry.

" _Stop_ doing that, or I'll have to . . ."

Chris stands, instantly in Zach's personal space, and kisses him before he can think better of it, smells the salt and roses and hears waves and their hopelessly smudged glasses clicking together.

Chris closes his eyes tight and safe and the kiss deepens, inquisitive sounds from Zach and Chris unable to stop his hands from roaming, bumping bone and sleeves and shocking hot skin. Zach gets a hand at the back of Chris's neck to keep him from escaping even to breathe, slides his fingers into his hair and Chris's belt loops to drag him farther inside.

Chris opens his eyes a little to navigate the unfamiliar living room, passing laptops and unsorted groceries and the glow of Zach getting a text message. There's a spin, and it gets the light from the porch in Chris's eyes so he closes them (flickering red against the backs of his eyelids) and smooshes closer to Zach, hands gripping at biceps and increasing erection making contact with Zach's thigh.

They end up on the flimsy couch in the center of the room, descending to it awkwardly because Chris can't survive without his mouth latched onto Zach's for the foreseeable future. Zach straddles him, yanks Chris's glasses off not so carefully and stows them on the coffee table along with his own while Chris's hands run up his sides, over his shirt to make it ride up, then over silky skin to make Zach kiss him harder.

Chris sneaks another glance, blackened background making the slice of the porch light across Zach's cheek terribly dramatic. The masterful gleam of highlighting through chunks of his too long hair making Chris want to analyze him like a work of art. Confusing genre of Zach—Baroque shadows and messy modern brush strokes and most importantly the flower scented heat of him enveloping Chris, not to be denied.

Zach slips fluidly down Chris's body, mouthing at his neck and chest through his shirt, parts Chris's knees to settle on the floor between them. His hands run up Chris's thighs, strong, undo his fly without skipping a beat and before Chris can even curse to himself Zach's licking a hot stripe up his cock and it's so sudden and sexy—Chris's hips lift with the force of Zach getting all that clothing the fuck out of the way before leaning in to let Chris's cock slip over his mouth, dipping into heat and meeting his clever tongue again. Chris can't remember how to breathe.

Zach's so fucking into it, making appreciative sounds against Chris's flesh and nudging Chris's legs wider impatiently. When it comes to Zach lapping at Chris's cock with his hair falling in his face and his bare feet on the floor and his very clearly straining erection, Chris can't decide whether it's better to watch until his eyes burn or block out the sight until it feels twice as wetly tantalizing as it looks.

Zach retreats and Chris can't even moan at the loss, is gonna suffocate any minute now. Zach grips the base with one hand and licks his lips and lowers his mouth.

Zach doesn't take him very deep but Chris couldn't care less—what he's doing is more focused than any showy deepthroating technique, sucking hard and paying special attention to the head of Chris's cock with his tongue, wide pulsing sweeps of pressure, expert flick of his wrist that drives Chris crazy. He arcs up into the attention and Zach _mm_ 's and sucks harder and pulls off his cock with a lascivious pop. Grins up at him and makes Chris want to die with lust.

"Gonna make you come," Zach informs him. Chris gets hypnotized by the gleam of light on his hair and the gleam of sweat on Zach's chest at his open collar.

"Wait, wait—can we . . . ? I, uh." He's too distracted by him, touches Zach's face and tries to wade through the impulses ruling his brainwaves. "I wanna . . ."

Zach grins. "Thought _I_ was the prude."

"Ha."

They blush and sweat and breathe at each other for a minute.

"Okay, seriously, come here." And Chris pulls him up onto the couch, disrupting dumb floral cushions in the process. Zach's gaze goes eager.

Chris just pushes him down and gets his shirt off, peels his jeans off with an effort and snide comments about what constitutes 'skinny' and what's just impractical at the ready until he's face to face with Zach's seriously erect cock. Zach sighs at the freedom and Chris bends to kiss up the inside of his thigh, takes him in his mouth for a minute, tastes and relishes how hard he is. He escapes before Zach can keep him there, rummaging around in the drawer of an unstable wicker table for a sample size sunscreen he'd discarded earlier.

Zach snorts, dorky and devastatingly gorgeous at once. "You look like a Price Is Right model holding it up like that."

"Ugh, _Zach_ —breaking the mood!"

Zach sits up a little, amazingly close amazingly quick. Chris tilts his head enough to capture his lips. "Seriously, though," Zach murmurs when they part. "Sunscreen?"

"What's wrong with sunscreen? A little SPF never hurt anybody!"

Zach rolls his eyes. " _Fine_."

Chris hits him a little. "Hey, I thought you had designs on me—why aren't _you_ better prepared?"

"I have _condoms_ ," Zach glares.

Chris huffs and Zach laughs at him and then they're just sitting on the couch.

"Okay, so, we're seriously losing the mood, here," Chris says.

"Want me to put on some Ella Fitzgerald?"

Chris wants to retort—kisses him instead, which works better. Zach lies back down and brings Chris with him, hooks a leg up and fishes through his wallet where it had fallen to the floor while Chris squirts Banana Boat unsexily onto his hand and eases one finger into him. Zach tries to relax into it but his brow's creased, sheen of sweat over his forehead so Chris kisses him for a minute and keeps their faces smashed together afterward. Focuses on Zach's breathing and tensing muscles and tries not to think about how aroused he is—

" _Ah!_ " Chris wasn't expecting Zach to roll the condom over his cock just then, twists into his hands without meaning to.

"You can do another," Zach says in the background.

"Sure? 'Cause . . ." Chris adds an additional finger and Zach tenses.

"Erghpf. Yeah, haven't done this in awhile," Zach says quickly, squirming.

"Wait, so, you _are_ an aggressive top?" Chris crooks his fingers and fucks into him before he can answer.

Zach gasps. "No—kinda—just—I'll do fucking _whatever_ for you—okay okay _oh_ god _fuck_ —"

"Yeah?"

"Nah, I'm just faking to stroke your ego, Chris," Zach says sarcastically. "Ugh-fuck-come-on-right-there . . ."

Chris laughs.

Zach's nearly hyperventilating now. " _Chris_." Clutching at him.

Chris remembers his arousal in a wave of awareness, searing, to do with the unpredictable lighting of the room and the sound of Zach's voice. Chris removes his fingers and twists Zach's pliant body around until he's face down on the couch. Drinks in Zach's drawn out whine as Chris pushes into him.

He leans closer, deeper and hotter, smoothes his hands up Zach's back over straining muscle and sweet skin. Pulls out a little before sinking gratefully back in and Zach breathes things like _Yeah_ and cutoff versions of his name into the couch and Chris _burns_ at the sound of his name in Zach's airy-growly voice. He bites at Zach's elegant shoulders, kisses the back of his neck and threads his fingers through his sweatdamp hair as he fucks him.

Zach groans encouragement and Chris needs more, shifts up and shivers at the kiss of their skin along the way, braces himself against the arm of the couch before thrusting in deeper. Zach moans muffledly into cushions and grips Chris's arm _hard_ , rampant string of curses with every slow heavy thrust.

Chris can't see, can only follow his need for more. He accelerates their rhythm until Zach's fingers are digging painfully into his arm and Chris's muscles are protesting. And then Zach keens and it triggers Chris's orgasm—dark loss of gravity and the blinding flare of pleasure knocking the breath out of him.

Chris blinks through the aftershocks, takes Zach's cock in hand and turns Zach's head to kiss him messily until he feels liquid heat spill through his fingers.

Chris collapses back onto the couch and sighs relief at the ceiling. He glimpses movement out of the corner of his eye and catches Zach's wrist before he gets very far. "Where are you . . . ?"

"Towel," Zach mutters, blinking and smiling unstoppably at him. "Clean up."

"No no, let me." Chris tries to stand. "You just—"

"Just hold on, I'll be right back." And he makes his getaway.

"Zach," Chris says. He doesn't have the energy to follow, but he does it anyway.

They wash all evidence away in the tiny little bathroom in silence. Chris knows he should be feeling apprehensive or guilty by now, but he just isn't. Zach's hand drifts over Chris's hip and Chris kisses him.

*

"Hey, so, I did some research."

"Oh really?"

"Mhmm." Chris rests his chin on Zach's shoulder and watches him type. "And I'm not impressed."

"Oh really?"

"And I'm getting a sex change operation and leaving you for Sarah Palin."

"Oh re—hey!"

"Pay attention!"

Zach rolls his eyes. "Sorry." Spins around and dislodges Chris and clasps his hands like a good little schoolboy. "Your real person slash revelation?"

Chris had had a whole silly speech at the ready but now he's getting cold feet. Not that Zach makes him nervous—just that Chris might've thought too much about this or about them or— "I dunno. I guess I've just decided that. You know. It doesn't bother me as much now . . . that . . . now."

"Now?"

"Yeah."

Zach smiles. "Yeah, okay."

*


End file.
